


tag team

by shoutz



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clone Sex, Clones, F/M, Female Clone Estinien, Fighting Kink, M/M, Multi, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, listen. this sucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoutz/pseuds/shoutz
Summary: The Warrior of Light messes up. Shenanigans ensue.“Oh. Huh.” She looks down at the page, then back up at her realized work. “That…wasn’t supposed to happen.”Two figures sit where there was once one. Estinien remains in the same position, thankfully unharmed and relatively unchanged, but…Estinien startles and scrambles backwards, crumpling countless papers beneath his hands as he does so. Next to him sits…“Is that…another Estinien?” Aymeric questions, but—“No.”“Not… Not quite, I’m afraid,” the Warrior of Light says, scrutinizing her work as it scrutinizes her in return. She gives up after a moment with a sigh, scooping a few of her books and papers into her arms. “It seems I have more work to do.”
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	tag team

**Author's Note:**

> The dumbest thing I've ever conceived. The brain worms grabbed me and would not let go. Peep that chapter count tho........two of them

“And… You’re sure this is safe?”

“Of course!” the Warrior of Light says, head buried in one of the many books strewn around her as she sketches runes with a comically large feather quill.

“Are you sure? Have you tried it before?” Aymeric asks, almost hesitant from his perch on the outskirts of the chaotic confluence of parchment and sigils and hastily scrawled notes.

“Nope! First time for everything, right? Even the Allagans had to start somewhere!”

“That…doesn’t help,” Estinien grumbles from where he sits in the eye of the storm, cross-legged with his chin resting on a propped elbow and an expression that somehow is both slightly afraid and horribly bored.

It’s been like this for perhaps an hour now. The Warrior of Light had spirited Estinien away from a day of training for what she referred to as _important research,_ though she offered no further specifics than that. It had culminated in Estinien watching quietly as she flitted around the room, shuffling through notes and careful diagrams for what she would only offhandedly describe as an _Allagan experiment._

So of course, when Aymeric caught wind of her muttering and rambling and Estinien’s answering grumbles, he had to see for himself. She seemed willing to tolerate extra company only under the condition that he not touch anything, though that didn’t stop him from snooping. Even still, it was magic far beyond his ken, little more than nonsensical scratches on paper to the unlearned eye.

“Hmm… And then… Oh! I think I’ve got it!” she exclaims, stepping back from her work and scanning the mess on the ground for… _something_.

“What exactly is _it?”_ Aymeric asks, unsure if he even wants an answer.

“The spell!” She makes her way in front of Estinien to what Aymeric has divined to be the top of the ritual circle and picks up a book laying open amidst the mess, flipping through the pages frantically before settling on one. “Okay, Estinien, I just need you to relax a moment, it shouldn’t hurt but if it does just _please_ try not to move—”

“It _shouldn’t—”_

“What is _that_ supposed to—”

A whirling mass of aether coalesces around Estinien, interrupting their protests. Several of the pages are thrown askew in the whirlwind but it doesn’t faze the Warrior of Light as she focuses the aether in a bright sphere surrounding Estinien. Aymeric covers his eyes against the deluge of light and energy, listening as the winds whirl and the Warrior of Light mutters arcane words beyond his realm of understanding.

A few moments pass before the light fades. Hesitantly, he looks towards the aftermath, and…

“Oh. Huh.” She looks down at the page, then back up at her realized work. “That…wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Two figures sit where there was once one. Estinien remains in the same position, thankfully unharmed and relatively unchanged, but…

Estinien startles and scrambles backwards, crumpling countless papers beneath his hands as he does so. Next to him sits…

“Is that…another Estinien?” Aymeric questions, but—

_“No.”_

“Not… Not quite, I’m afraid,” the Warrior of Light says, scrutinizing her work as it scrutinizes her in return. She gives up after a moment with a sigh, scooping a few of her books and papers into her arms. “It seems I have more work to do.”

A woman scowls at the three of them, long white hair nearly covering her visage. Two pointed Elezen ears part the strands, strands which frame a strong nose and sharp jawline. It’s Estinien, almost exactly, but the details are somehow softer, expertly wrought upon an annoyed face. THe cheekbones and eyes are practically identical, though the rest of the face structure varies to the one who has perhaps known Estinien the longest. Clothes identical to the ones Estinien wears cover a body that seems almost identical to her counterpart’s in size and musculature, save for a few features that Estinien himself does not possess.

“You’re just going to leave this here?!” Estinien yells as she gathers her cloak and hides her books away in a satchel.

“It’s fine! She’ll fade away after an hour! Probably!”

The door shuts behind her before they can protest further. The three of them are left alone in the training hall, trying to parse what just happened.

“She… She said Allagan magic, but I wasn’t expecting _cloning,”_ Aymeric comments, approaching the double. She doesn’t speak but instead her ocean blue eyes wander up and down his form, a statement in itself. Aymeric can’t discern their smoldering intent, though it brings heat to his cheeks. “Can you speak? Can you understand us?”

She squints, and after a moment gives a careful nod of her head. Aymeric isn’t quite sure which question she’s answering. He opens his mouth to clarify, to try and sort out the mystery, but Estinien is already standing and walking towards the weapons rack.

“Wh— You’re just—” Aymeric flounders for a moment, looking between Estinien and his female counterpart in disbelief. “What are you doing?”

Estinien shrugs, nonplussed. “Not my problem to solve. She interrupted my training. Might as well take advantage of this… _situation_ while I can.” Estinien looks to his clone, points at a lance as he takes his own. “At any rate, I’ve always wanted to try sparring against myself.”

She does as she is bid and moves to stand opposite Estinien upon the training floor. He shoves aside some of the errant papers the Warrior of Light had left behind and meets his opponent in a ready stance.

No words pass between them; in the same instant they dash towards one another, two flashes of white hair and cut muscle clashing in the center. They jab and parry each other almost perfectly in synchrony, leaping forward to strike only to retreat shortly thereafter in favor of a more effective angle of attack.

Their dance captivates Aymeric. He can’t decide which of them he would rather watch. They fight with the same brutal strength and agility that edges as close to beauty as it does lethality — on both sides. The few hits they do land are glancing, nicks and scrapes and bruises against muscle, yielding grunts from battered lungs.

Aymeric doesn’t know he’s gawking until the woman glances back at him, eyes aflame with the adrenaline of a fight, and _smirks._

He averts his eyes, then, as that heat crawls up his ears and cheeks.

Estinien scowls and lands a particularly staggering blow against her sternum, knocking her back and forcing her attention back to her opponent. She, of course, scowls in response and retaliates, but Estinien glances the blow aside and lands a hit against her side with a solid _thwap._

“Do not _look_ at him like that,” Estinien nearly growls as she regains her footing. She says nothing in response but the smirk returns, and she repays his fervor with twice her previous strength, sensing and rising to the challenge in his tone.

Their fight continues and Aymeric watches, enraptured, as their sparring turns vicious in its intensity. Estinien’s attacks lose whatever forgiveness they had harbored before in favor of a ferocity that makes Aymeric’s heart trip over itself in an attempt to keep time. Her attacks shift to match but she can’t quite keep up with his footwork.

Aymeric, barely cognizant, licks his lips and finds his mouth bone dry.

He catches Estinien’s eyes for a brief moment and his cheeks are red with exertion, bits of snowy hair sticking to his forehead and neckline with sweat. A few patches of his tunic are soaked through, clinging to his sculpted form and heaving in tandem with every breath. His counterpart is similarly disheveled, though from this angle he can only see the shifting of her spine and shoulder blades as she finds a moment of respite.

After careful observation, Aymeric learns that their similarities far outweigh their differences, both in appearance and in mannerism. Estinien seems entirely undaunted fighting against a copy of himself, unbothered by having a clone of himself at all. A glint in his eye and a bounce in his step that hadn’t been there before both give him away — instead of uncomfortable or agitated, he seems… _playful._ Aymeric finds the emotion suits him well, gives him a nigh irresistible glow that’s mirrored in the woman he fights.

 _The two of them, together…_

As if sensing his train of thought, the clone looks over her shoulder to find Aymeric’s eyes out of the corner of her own, and in profile he can see the corner of her lips lift. The expression is familiar both on her and on her counterpart, a challenge and a threat in one, a look that has Aymeric’s gut simmering low with an entirely inappropriate heat. Estinien frowns again and grits his teeth, before tossing his weapon to the side and storming into her personal space. She drops her lance and shoves at his shoulder, meeting his burning eyes with her own, identical in color and in aggression.

 _“No more,”_ Estinien growls, anger radiating from him in waves. “He is _not yours.”_

Aymeric freezes, a nervous knot pulling tight in his stomach at being brought to attention. Did Estinien know he was ogling them? _Them,_ he realizes in a panic, _both of them,_ and it’s a thought that takes a far different tone than he expected.

But the question remains: would Estinien indulge? Would _she?_

She tilts her head to the side, a question no doubt painting her face with amusement. Estinien’s eyes meet Aymeric’s over her shoulder, flit down and up, taking him in. Deep blue narrows in consideration.

“Hm. Interesting.”

He shoulders past her and stalks his way towards Aymeric, a man on a mission. She follows behind him, and having both their eyes pinning him in place makes Aymeric’s clothes feel suddenly too tight on his form.

The answer, it seems, is a vehement _yes._

Estinien is far too close for comfort before Aymeric can even think to react, nose to nose, sharing breaths. The woman is quick to join him, moving behind Aymeric and pressing close. He hasn’t the wits to get out of their space, nervous energy manifesting in succinct approval of _whatever_ this wants to become.

“He is not yours, but…perhaps…” Estinien’s whisper skims along his neck, his jaw, his ear. He clenches his teeth against a shiver that threatens to roll its languid way down his spine. The clone presses a slow kiss at the back of his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. Estinien threads a hand through dark hair, a motion Aymeric leans into with his eyes half-lidded.

“Instead, he is _ours.”_

That heat that had been building suddenly collapses, imploding on itself like a dying star, a dense mass of lust leaving Aymeric as breathless as he is dizzy. He nods, dumbstruck, and it’s Estinien’s turn to wield that smirk like a weapon, cutting and deadly. He chuckles, low and rolling like thunder, before delving forward to claim Aymeric’s lips in a kiss.

Hands smooth along his back, gentle and coaxing as they make their way around to his front. One of the clone’s hands latches onto his hip and squeezes, claiming, and Aymeric whines into Estinien’s mouth as her other hand finds his crotch. She strokes him once through his trousers, slow as sin — but it’s a touch that burns him from the inside out, at once too much and not nearly enough.

They press against him in tandem, front and back, holding him upright as his knees threaten to give. Estinien’s arms wrap and tighten around Aymeric’s shoulders like a vice as his lips claim what is rightfully theirs, and Aymeric scrambles for purchase with two grasping hands on his tunic, desperate for as much contact as he can get. Meanwhile a sure hand continues working his cock through the fabric of his pants, a dulled sensation that builds upon itself like embers jostled in a dying fire — the promise of an ignited inferno with the right amount of fuel and coaxing care. The heat gets to be too much and Aymeric pulls away gasping.

“You… You _both…”_ Aymeric loses his train of thought as Estinien’s lips settle on his neck instead, sucking a careful bruise against his pulse. The woman behind him abandons her grip on his cock in favor of fumbling with the tie holding his trousers up, loosening the knot and tugging the fabric until it and his underclothes pool forgotten at his feet.

Estinien hums low in the back of his throat and his arms fall so his hands can have their fill of his ass, kneading the muscle where it’s been exposed.

The warmth at his back retreats and the draft left in her wake has a shiver teasing across his skin. Aymeric makes a noise of protest, before he feels an amused puff of breath _far lower_ than he had expected.

Embarrassment flushes the tips of his ears pink as Estinien whispers into one of them, adjusting his grip on Aymeric’s ass, spreading him to expose him further. “I could eat you _whole.”_

Aymeric nods, desperate, and it draws a deep laugh from Estinien’s throat. “With enthusiasm like that, mayhap I will,” he muses, studying Aymeric’s face. He seems to find something he likes; he presses a long, slow kiss against Aymeric’s lips as if unable to resist himself the indulgence. Aymeric, on the other hand, jolts in surprise and presses closer as he feels a tongue circle languidly around his entrance, tantalizing, the promise of more.Aymeric gasps a breath as Estinien pulls back, only to drop to his knees in front of him and lock eyes through snowy fringe.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Aymeric gulps.

Estinien takes Aymeric’s stiff length in hand and strokes, slow, callouses from years of training giving his palm texture as it glides over smooth skin. He licks the tip once, a small taste, before closing his lips around it and sucking. Almost simultaneously, the woman’s tongue loses its patience and _delves,_ stretching him open by ilms. The dual sensations have Aymeric gasping, reaching both forward and back to fist carefully in two heads of white hair. He thrusts his hips minutely forward and back, a gentle rhythm as Estinien takes more and his clone quickens her pace.

“By the— _bleeding Fury—”_ Aymeric stammers, broken and breathy. The hand on Estinien’s head pulls him closer until he is as close as possible, warmth enveloping his length. It throbs at the sensation, and once more when he swallows around it. Estinien maintains his grip on Aymeric’s ass and uses it to pull himself closer, groaning as his tongue works up and down his cock.

A litany of praises and curses pour from Aymeric’s lips, punctuated by groans and whimpers and cries for _more._ Estinien relents, albeit reluctantly, and starts bobbing his head in earnest, easing away before returning to take him fully. Aymeric can’t help but roll his hips, both forward into the heat of Estinien’s mouth and back onto the woman’s tongue. Their grips on him — Estinien’s firmly on his rear while the clone claims his thighs — threaten to bruise even as they hold him upright.

They take him apart, ilm by breathless ilm until each and every gasp is followed by a moan, a plea, a wordless whine. Estinien and his double can’t decide if they’d rather alternate or maintain the same rhythm so they do both in turns, using the slow roll of Aymeric’s hips to guide them. That heat spreading through his body tightens like a coil, dense and pointed where it sits in his groin, waiting to release.

His moans raise in pitch and volume. Estinien looks up with hungry eyes through pale lashes, maintains eye contact as he swallows as much of the length as will fit— _and then some._ His nose presses into the soft skin of Aymeric’s abdomen and his throat undulates around his cock as he swallows, and—

The tension _snaps._

“Estinien— _oh!”_

Aymeric all but doubles over as the orgasm rolls through his body, a crashing wave of warmth and rapture. The only things keeping him upright are the hands at his hips and thighs, holding steady as he trembles and spills into Estinien’s mouth.

It takes a few moments before Aymeric can catch his breath, regaining his senses one at a time. The last of them to come is his sight as he eases open his bleary eyes to take in the sight below him: Estinien, hair tangled, short of breath. He eases from Aymeric’s flagging length slowly, cleaning what mess remains as he goes. His lips are pink and swollen and Aymeric aches to kiss them. The clone backs away as well and Aymeric clenches around the emptiness she leaves behind.

They both rise, keeping hands on Aymeric’s torso lest he fall over. The clone moves around to his side and Aymeric pulls her forward into a kiss, both appreciative and claiming. She kisses back hungrily, a consuming energy that carries an undeniable lust even despite his recent orgasm.

Her lips are softer, slightly, but no less possessive as she presses forward. Aymeric reaches up to pull her closer, to explore and enjoy, but his hands phase through her. In an instant her form dissolves, aether spent, just like the Warrior of Light had said she would. The last of her fades away and leaves the two of them alone, kiss-bruised and debauched in the training hall.

A few seconds span between them as Aymeric continues to come down from his orgasm. They lock eyes for a moment and he sees the fire in Estinien’s eyes not dulled, but somehow brighter than before, enticing.

Aymeric looks back at the door and upon finding it still closed firm, he turns to Estinien and _pounces._

**Author's Note:**

> femstinien took one look at aymeric and knew she was gonna get some. love that for her
> 
> you're officially invited to my birthday party [@shoutzwastaken](http://twitter.com/shoutzwastaken)
> 
> i'm sure if you come hang out with [the book club](https://discord.gg/X6NJJAb) they'll want u at their birthday parties too


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